Built to Last
by parryotterdork
Summary: Harry Potter is engaged to Cho Chang, can't remember how or why, and is slowly falling in love with ... three guesses who ... Ginny Weasley.
1. Home Sweet Home

A/N: This starts slow, be patient. All the characters and stuff are property of J.K.R., and _Mary_ by the Subways inspired the Harry/Ginny stuff for this fanfic, and _Married with Children_ by Oasis induced the Harry/Cho relationship, if that means anything to anyone. The story itself doesn't follow canon after fifth year, because sixth just makes it too complicated. Enjoy!

: Chapter One : Home Sweet Home

Harry Potter was a content man. Not happy, but content, though many thought that he should be very happy, considering the circumstances under which he now lived.

After finishing his seventh year at Hogwarts, Harry had trained to become an Auror. He had mastered the many aspects of his profession so quickly that within a single year he had completed his classes and been accepted to a starting position in the Ministry of Magic. In the next eleven months, he had used his newly acquired resources (and the help of his three good friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger) to locate and vanquish the Dark Lord, which was actually much harder than he has ever let on.

Subsequent to destroying the Dark Lord, Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, allowed (actually insisted) Harry to skip several ranks and become Second-in-Command to the Head Auror, a position that, in fact, did not previously exist. This was done in great vexation to the current Head Auror, Rufus Scrimgeour, who argued that he did not need a Second-in-Command, especially when that Second-in-Command was fresh out of school.

Professionalism aside, Harry Potter was also the subject of various red tops, such as _Witch Weekly_,_ The Enchanting Enchanted_, and _Spellbound_, often pictured with a very pretty girl looking to be of orient, due to her long black hair and shining dark eyes.

Presently, however, Harry was alone, sitting in small, yet bright little coffee shop that reminded him very much of a place where he hadn't been in a very long time. Perhaps that was why he was here so often; maybe he missed the Burrow. Maybe he could go and visit Ron and the other Weasleys. They had, of course, been his adoptive family all through his school years.

He took a sip from the little mug in his hand, and the painful warmth brought him to his senses…painfully. He couldn't go back to the Burrow---Cho hated it there, and he couldn't go alone, because the one thing she hated more than the idea of herself there was the idea of him there alone. _"I don't like that place much,"_ she had said once, a plump bottom lip proceeding just past her top one. _"It's so cramped, and I don't think they clean very often."_

Something grew very hot in the pit of Harry's stomach, and he was sure it wasn't the same substance that had burned his tongue just moments before. But surely he wasn't angry with Cho, was he? She had never done anything against him, after all. He was always the one messing up, making her cry. Now he felt a cold knot of guilt in the same region, replacing the boiling sensation.

There was movement at the rear end of the shop. A spotty-faced boy with a patch on his uniform reading, "Jeffery," was frantically trying to coax a coffee brewer into service while a portly man at the counter grew to look more and more displeased every minute. Mr. Weasley would've been enthralled at the sight of the machine. Harry glanced in the opposite direction, looking through the large glass storefront as cars flew quickly past. Perhaps he would pay them a visit.

The rest of the day was to pass quite uneventfully. They arrested four Irishmen who had broken into Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, who got off with a warning, for they were all very…"intoxicated," which might have been why they attempted to take very frilly robes in several shades of mauve. Then their squadron continued a search for a Hungarian man charged with the murder of his own brother. Allegedly their spat was solely over a very pretty French woman. Later the Aurors found that this very pretty French woman had eaten both men, as she happened to be a three-quarter veela, and the brothers' bickering had annoyed her very much.

The Minister was not happy, as usual, with their progress for the day, though this time couldn't be bothered to come down from his office to yell at them. Rather, he stuck his head in the fire and shouted at them through the Floo network, which, thankfully, lowered the volume quite a bit. Scrimgeour had Harry stay back in headquarters for a while to yell at him personally. Harry, however, had learned to look like he was listening months ago, and left for home utterly nonplussed.

Home. It sounded very odd, calling such a place like 23 Ansonia Street home. It was much too big for just Harry and Cho, but she had wanted it so much, her bright eyes pleading.

"_Oh, Harry! It's perfect!" _she had said.

"_I dunno,"_ he had replied, looking around at the high vaulted ceilings and wide stretches of marble tiling. _"It looks kind of big for just two people…" _He had then glanced out of the wide glass doors that stretched along the back of the house. It dropped off into a sandy beach barely four metres from the end of the flat. _"And it doesn't have anything of a back yard…"_

But she had insisted that it was, in fact, perfect, and that she hated it when places were too small, and that a beach was still a backyard, it just didn't have any itchy grass or bugs.

Harry felt that odd boiling sensation in the pit of his stomach again, and thus shrugged it off again. Just in time, too, because the minute he pulled open the front door of the flat, Cho charged at him, throwing her arms around him and kissing him full on the lips. Harry nearly forgot to kiss her back, but the glittering engagement ring on her finger reminded him quite well. Cho giggled and broke away from him, skipping in a very cheery manner to the couch, where she plopped down, careful to choose the end opposite a small ginger cat, which Harry had named Nellwyn, and usually called Wynnie. Cho didn't like it much. Ginny had given it to him, and if there was anyone Cho didn't like, it was Ginny. _"She always wears her brothers' shirts,"_ Cho had said one evening. _"And her hair is that weird red colour."_

"_I like it,"_ Harry had said automatically. Cho looked very quickly at him, and he added, with equal haste, _"But I like your hair better."_

"Are you alright, Harry?" said the present-time Cho.

"Yeah," he said quietly.

"Come sit with me," she said. Harry obliged, which, he reflected, was a lot like following Scrimgeour's orders, except he wasn't in love with the Head Auror. He was in love with Cho.

Wasn't he?

Of course he was. They would be married in a few years. It _had_ been Cho's idea, but it had appealed to him enough to waste several galleons on a nice engagement ring, hadn't it?

He glanced at it now. Exceedingly large, and with a cut to make it look even larger, standing out brilliantly white against her dark skin. It did look a rather gaudy to him, but Cho had thought it looked nice, than that was what mattered.

"You're sure you're okay?" Harry glanced at her, and realized that she was now much closer to him than she had been before. He nodded, and she smiled, and she kissed him again, though this time a bit more deeply than before, and Harry---

Felt very little; only a whisper of the lightness that his chest had once taken on. Therefore, he easily broke the kiss, and this surprised him not nearly as much as it had two months ago, when he had first found that he could pull away from the _illustrious_ Cho Chang.

"Cho, could we…" he trailed off uncertainly. Conversations concerning his old friends often ended in a crying fiancé and a frustrated self.

"Yeah?" she asked in a very sweet tone of voice. He would've hated to ruin her state of ecstasy, were he not so used to it.

"D'you think you'd mind if we visited the Weasleys a day---?"

"Yes," she said quickly, a tone in her voice that Harry had never heard before. Quickly she changed back into normal Cho. "I don't really like that place of theirs'. You know that, Harry."

"You don't have to come if you don't want to," said Harry tentatively. "But I haven't seen them in ages, and they were like family to me for eight years."

"But you've got _my_ family now, Harry," Cho persisted. "The Weasleys are your past, with all that horrible You-Know-Who stuff, and I'm your future." She smiled and caressed his cheek fondly. "Your happy, _luxurious_, You-Know-Who-less future."

"I was happy when I was with them, too," Harry said.

"But you're happier now," she said.

"No I'm not," said Harry automatically. It hadn't been a question. Cho didn't ask questions unless she knew she would like the answer, and she certainly didn't like the answer now.

"Of course you're happier now," she persisted, forcing a smile now as she kissed the corners of his mouth, which he made a point not to show recognition of. "You've just had a bad day. Was it a hard time at the Ministry today?"

"Not hard, just useless," said Harry darkly.

"Then see? You're just not thinking clearly. Anyone would be in a bad mood after a long day of work." But Cho would never know, thought Harry sharply, as she hadn't worked a day in her life.

Cho, obviously, did not want to spend any more time on this subject, as she gave a great stretch, arching her back in and stretching her legs out in front of her. Harry's knees happened to be in front of her, so she left them there and looped her arms around his middle.

"I'm going to go see them," said Harry decidedly, however quietly.

"You'd have more fun back here with me, you know," she said, fondling with his hair now, though Harry could sense the apprehension in her voice.

"But I'm always back here with you," he replied. "Or at your parents' with you, or at that Wong's place with you. The only time I'm _not_ with you is when I'm at the Ministry Headquarters."

"Harry," she said, looking confused now. "You're making it sound like you don't _like_ being with me."

"Maybe I don't," Harry muttered.

"What?" Cho asked.

"Of course I do," he replied. "But that doesn't mean I don't like seeing my friends." Something reminiscent of anger flared in Cho's eyes, and then it was gone.

"Well…I if you _really_ have to Harry…I suppose we could…" she replied reluctantly.

"So you don't want to stay back here?" he asked.

"No," she answered quickly.

Ron's reply to Harry's letter was enthusiastic, and returned to him almost immediately. Hedwig returned with a scroll of parchment tied to her foot, landing gracefully on the kitchen table where Harry sat, keeping Cho company as she cooked dinner, which she had insisted on doing all on her own tonight.

Harry- 

_ Where have you been for the last six months, mate? Of course you can come and see us! Mum's ecstatic. Drop by anytime on Saturday after 10 o'clock. And yeah, you can bring Cho if you like. Ginny said she's sick, so that ought to please her. _

_Can't wait to see you again!_

_-Ron_

"What does he mean by, 'That ought to please her?' He made it sound almost like they didn't want me there, Harry," she said, pouting prettily.

"I dunno," Harry said. "Maybe you should stay back…?"

"Or maybe we just shouldn't go," Cho suggested quickly.

"But I already said we'd be there…"

"You can send another owl. They've got so many people to accommodate, I don't think we'd be missed much."

"I'm going," said Harry decisively. That rare angry tint flickered in her eyes again, and she opened her mouth to speak, but then turned and began to chop carrots for a salad.

After a very sophisticated Chinese dinner (which, honestly, Harry found that he didn't like half as much as Hogwarts food, and not a quarter as much as Mrs. Weasley's dinners) Harry set his glasses on the nightstand and crawled into his four-poster, running into something very solid on this left side. He recognized Cho in the dim silvery light that filtered through the picture window. She kissed him like she had before he'd brought up the subject of the Weasleys, though seemed to have more of a purpose, a purpose that he didn't need to be told to know it's nature. She wanted him to feel bad about taking her somewhere that she didn't like, but he turned his head away. She proceeded to kiss him in what she apparently thought was a seductive way at the nape of his neck.

"G'night, Cho," he said finally. She froze, he turned his back to her, she turned away as well, and Harry drifted asleep quite disliking the person lying next to him. Slowly colors appeared before his eyes.

First there was green, lots and lots of green, broken by a single pink-and-silver figure. Then they materialized into the vast fields that surrounded the burrow, and Ginny Weasley. Bill and Fluer had just been married, and Ron had just abandoned his friend and sister as Hermione called for him back at the house. Ginny was still in her bride's maid's dress, a soft pink one with a few more frills than she would've liked. Harry's dress robes were stiff around him, but Cho had said that they were good, so he had, however reluctantly, gotten them instead of the more comfortable ones that Ginny had suggested.

Ginny. Harry still couldn't believe what Fluer's grandmother had done to her, just so that she could match the Delacour girls. Her hair had been glamour-Charmed a silver-blonde, which he liked much less than red, her eyes a soft blue, which he liked much less than brown, and her face oddly freckle-less. Everyone had, of course, been reluctant to disobey the eldest of the Delacours, as it wasn't an easy thing to keep a ruthless veela under control.

"The wedding ceremony was nice," said Ginny, breaking the quiet shushing of the wind in the grass, though her voice was rather similar to it anyway.

"Yeah," Harry agreed. There was a pause, and then he blurted, "You looked nice up there, Gin."

He glanced at her. She blushed. _"I like it when she does that,"_ something muttered deep in his chest. Harry smiled a little. She blushed a little more and smiled back.

And then something happened that Harry didn't remember happening six months ago.

He took a step toward Ginny, and she toward him. She reached up to run cool fingers down the side of his face, her hand dropping from his cheek and coming to rest over the beating thing in his torso (at the moment he couldn't remember what it was called).

"_Harry_," she murmured, and suddenly he loved his name.

Slowly he lowered his head, hardly believing what he was doing, slowly bringing her pale countenance closer to his darker own. For a moment, Harry felt that he wanted nothing more in the world than to close the mere inches between them, and that, if he were to touch her lips, even lightly, to his own, then he would have---

"Har-ry," someone cooed sweetly. That had been a much shorter moment than he would've liked. Again he felt his insides simmering. Why couldn't Cho have just slept in for once, left him to his dream for just a few more moments?

And the _hell_ was wrong with him? He was engaged to _Cho_, not Ginny, and yet the latter he had been dreaming of, and the foremost he had been cursing. How could he look at the affection in the dark eyes gazing at him across the pillowcase, and think poorly of their bearer over someone else?

"_Easily_," said something as it lurked maliciously in a very dark corner of his heart, a place that he hadn't known existed. Harry chose to ignore it, forced his mouth into a grin, and kissed Cho lightly on the nose.

The rest of the week (it had been Monday when he had owled Ron) passed like any other week, in a very monotonous fashion. Usually the days all mushed together in their supreme likeness. Now, however, he had something to look forward to, and he wasn't surprised when Saturday morning arrived.

It was this morning that he woke from a particularly vivid dream, in which Ginny appeared again, though this time it was from a further back memory. It took place in the summer after Harry had finished his training as an Auror, when Ron had somehow convinced Hermione that they needed a break from all this preparing-to-defeat Voldemort rubbish.

Thus, they were flying in the cloudless June sky, playing a game of two-on-two Quidditch, Ron and Harry against Ginny and Hermione. Ginny had just caught their Quaffle (actually a Muggle football borrowed from Mr. Weasley's stash) and was heading for the goal posts (in reality an old tire swing hanging from a very tall tree). Ron and Hermione were on the other side of the field, but Harry was right behind her. For a moment they collided, Harry trying to reach around Ginny to grab the Quaffle-football.

It happened so quickly that he was barely aware of it happening. His chest pressed up against her back, a hot, distinctly ear-like shape pressed against his sweat-slickened neck, and the corner of his mouth brushed a place just beneath her eye, and for reason unknown to him, his skin went to very pleasant flame from his waist up. Ginny's broomstick stopped, which, in turn, caused everything to stop, save the Firebolt, which sent the both of them tumbling to the grassy ground. They had barely been a metre off the ground, so Harry could disentangle himself from her without much hindrance.

And then the dream veered right out of reality, just as it had four nights ago.

"Wait," said Ginny as he sat up. She took hold of the shoulder of his tee shirt, and pulled him back down to the grass again, this time in a face-down position, with Harry propping himself up on his elbows. Rather, a single elbow---the other arm he had to reach around Ginny to avoid jabbing her in the stomach. Ginny ran a hand through his hair absently, and Harry felt something just below his ribs (what did they call that again?) give a giant swing. He slowly let his head sink closer to the grass, closer to---

Pillow. Damn.

Harry was aggravated for a moment as his flesh tingled, reminiscent of the former blaze. He was promptly hit with another wave of guilt, as the lump next to him shifted in her sleep. Her monotone raven-black hair was splayed over the fuchsia (he hadn't had any say in it) bed sheets, dark eyes muted by heavy eyelids. Harry wondered if he should wake her. He had never woken up before her, and now was at a loss for what to do.

And then he realized what an idiot he was being. He had defeated the most evil, second most powerful wizard in the world, but he didn't know whether he should wake his fiancé or not. Really, it was rather pathetic.

With this thought, Harry swung out of bed, glanced at the clock (eight thirty-five, a.m.), took a tee shirt and jeans (his favourite old pair---he'd never get away with it if Cho had been awake) from his dresser, and left for the loo. When he was dressed and showered, hair messy without the finicky guidance of his fiancé, Harry left the house with Nellwyne to take a walk, Hedwig gliding lazily overhead.

"Cho asked about the wedding again yesterday, Wynnie," said Harry heavily.

"_Mrrow_."

"'We've been engaged for almost half a year now Harry,'" he said, imitating Cho's high, airy tone very poorly. "Honestly, doesn't she think I know how long it's been?"

"_Mrrow_."

"I do! It's been five months. Or was it four? Three? No, that doesn't seem _nearly_ long enough."

"_Mrrow_."

"Alright, alright, so maybe I don't know how long it's been… But six months isn't very long, when you think about it. Shouldn't we wait another year or two? Maybe three, even, just to make sure it'll really work out."

"_Mrrow_."

"I am _not_ putting it off! Why would I do that, Wynnie? I've liked Cho since sixth year, and---"

"_Mrrow_."

"No, not fourth or fifth. It was just about looks in fourth year, and in fifth we had that awful fight, remember?"

"_Mrrow_."

"What? No, it's not still about looks. Cho's a nice girl."

"_Mrrow_."

"Yeah, I s'pose she is a bit superficial."

"_Mrrow_."

"Those dreams about Ginny? How did you know about that, Wyn?"

"_Mrrow_."

"Fine, don't tell me. Anyway, what d'you think they mean?" said Harry, swatting a fly from where it was buzzing about his chin. "I s'pose it's just the idea of going to the burrow, it's making me dream of it. But then why would I wake up like that, sweating and feeling so…" Harry gave an inadvertent, twitch-ish shiver, and Nellwyn seemed to gather enough by it.

"_Mrrow_," she replied in an understanding tone.

"Anyway, I think we should get back, Wynnie."

When he arrived home scarcely a minute later, he was not well received.

"Where were you?" Cho asked, looking panic-stricken.

"Walking," Harry replied, numb with confusion.

"_Walking?_ Harry, I was so worried!" she exclaimed, eyes welling with tears that magically cleared as Wynnie slipped past her into the flat, looking somewhat resentful of the long-haired ginger thing. She turned back to Harry, and the tears had reappeared. "I woke up and you weren't there and---and---_Harry!_"

She threw her arms around him and in seconds his shoulder was wet. Harry suppressed a groan. He so hated tears.

"Cho---come on---I'm here _now_---what'd you think could happen?" He tried to move out of the way, but the more he tried to break away, the tighter her fists closed on the fabric of his tee shirt. Frustrated, Harry blatantly pushed her away, turning his head from the sobbing wreck. Cho composed herself with surprising speed and closed the front door.

"Didn't I tell you not to wear those?" she asked, indicating the tattered pair of jeans. Harry shrugged.

"It's not like anyone we'll see today'll care," he pointed out, trying to keep any bitter tones from his voice. "I've known Ron longer than I have you, at any rate."

"Oh. Right," said Cho heavily. "Harry, are you sure you still---?"

"Yeah, I'm going, whether you want to or not."

She did, however, insist on coming with him, and the moment that they Apparated to a dirt road just outside the Burrow, a look of utmost disgust sprouted on her face. Ignoring her, Harry proceeded to the door, rapping his knuckles on the peeling paint. It swung open so quickly that Harry was nearly hit in the nose. Apparently they'd been expecting him.

"HARRY!" The noise that exploded from just past the threshold nearly knocked him over. Ron pulled him into the Burrow and gave him a one-armed embrace, saying, "Good to see you, mate," before his mother swept Harry into one of her own bone-crushing hugs. Fred, George, Bill, Charlie, Mr. Weasley, and, surprisingly enough, Percy thumped him hard on the back simultaneously, which nearly knocked the wind out of him. Before he could properly catch his breath, something with a hell of a lot of hair squeezed him around the middle, with a sharp, merry little squeal---Hermione.

"Hi Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, Percy, Charlie, Bill, Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley," said Harry, nodding to each of them in turn, and grinning like he hadn't in ages. "Nice to see you all, too."

"Come, come, in to the parlour, you lot," said Mr. Weasley, herding his family into the sitting room. They each took a seat, save Mrs. Weasley ("I'll make us a spot of tea and be right back!") and more than a dozen blue eyes were glued to the only boy in the room with dark hair.

"So Harry," Ron began, "Where _have_ you been? You said you'd keep in touch after Bill's wedding, but…"

"He probably just didn't realize how long it had been," said Cho suddenly, turning all eyes to herself. She giggled. "Time flies when you're having fun, you know."

It was at this moment that Harry wished very much that Cho had stayed home. Every Weasley turned to look at him with furrowed---or else raised---brows. Harry pretended to scratch the left side of his fringe, and, once he was sure that Cho could not read his lips, mouthed a simple, "_NO_."

The audience of redheads relaxed now, they carried on conversation with very little input from Cho, except to boast about Harry's second-in-command position, or show them all just how large and expensive the ring on her finger was. On both occasions, Harry resolved to bow his head and run his fingers through his hair, reluctant to see any more questioning Weasleys.

Once, amidst Cho's talks of Merlin-knows-how-many karats, Harry saw movement on the staircase through the space between his arm and his ribs. He whipped around to look over his shoulder at whatever it had been, which happened to be Ginny Weasley.

Ron, who had been looking very bored with Cho's droning, noticed her as Harry did, and said,

"Hey Ginny, why don't you come down here for a while? Just a minute or two?"

"I…" she began, though words seemed to fail her, and she descended the other half of the stairway to sit between two of her brothers at random. Harry put out his hand and she blinked at it.

"You're not that sick, are you?" he asked in rather jovial tones.

"Oh, er, no," she replied, looking as though she had just realized what he meant. Ginny reached out to shake his hand, and remained rather quiet while the rest spoke about the happenings of six months past.

"Harry," said Mrs. Weasley as she set down a plate of tea and biscuits, "you're welcome to stay for supper, if you like. We'd be happy to have you."

"Really? Thanks, Mrs. Weasley," Harry replied, grinning broadly. It was as if no time had passed.

"Oh, Harry," said Cho, tugging on the shoulder of his tee shirt. "My mum is coming by for dinner today."

"Doesn't she usually come on Sundays?" he asked, taking a sip of his tea.

"Yeah, but she had something she had to do on Sunday, so she had to reschedule."

"Your own mother rescheduled you?" Harry tried not to laugh---Cho wasn't finding this funny. "Then can't you just re-reschedule?"

"No."

"Then you could go back now, and I could come home later? She'd be happier if it were just you anyway. Your mum doesn't seem very fond of me, after all."

"Harry! She likes you, she just… She isn't shy about telling you what you're doing wrong, and you're too proud to hear any of it."

"She's the one that's too proud," Harry muttered.

"Oh, go ahead and insult her! For all we know, your mum could've been just as much, or worse! She could've been a git like you that couldn't get on halfway decently without someone to mother her along all the time, just like you do!"

Anger flared up inside him like a flame touched to oil. He could feel twenty eyes watching his every move.

"Go home, Cho."

"Harry…I didn't mean---"

"Go home. We'll talk there, alright?"

"But---"

"_Go!_ You tried so hard to get out of coming here earlier, what's the difference now?" he snapped, glaring daggers at her. It would all be his fault in a few hours, of course, but for now, it felt nice to be angry.

He was getting to be such a nutter.

Harry returned "home" at around 10 o'clock. Of course, he had left the Burrow at eight, after a day of three-on-three Quidditch, hearty Weasley cooking, the tantalizingly close proximity of Ginny, and repeated interrogations by both Ron and Hermione regarding he and Cho's spar.

Because of this minor battle, Harry had been so reluctant to hear anything from Cho that he decided to Apparate to the other side of town. He took the Knight Bus ("Neville!" Stan had exclaimed), claiming that his arrival at 23 Ansonia was a low priority. Two hours later, they had been halfway around the world and back, and Harry still regretted every step he took toward the overlarge house.

Cho approached him the moment he shut the door, and she opened her mouth to speak.

"Sorry for whatever I did," he said dully, cutting her off. "G'night." He made for the bedroom, but something hit him sharply across the cheek.

"How _dare_ you talk to me that way, like I'm not worth your trouble!" she snapped.

_You know, sometimes I wonder about that, Cho_, thought Harry, feeling the words flow freely from that dark, hidden place in his chest he'd just recently found. How great was his surprise, to find that he had spoken these things aloud?

"After everything I've done for you!" she said vehemently, stamping her foot against the hard marble floor. "After everything I've had to put up with for you!"

"After everything _you've_ put up with?" said Harry with a harsh laugh. "Have you ever had someone completely control your life, Cho? And what about waking up engaged? You know, I don't even recall how that happened."

"That's your own memory problem to blame, not me," Cho replied, fingering the ring as if Fawkes were about to swoop in and take it from her. "As for 'controlling your life,' I only stepped in because you needed me! Where would you be if I hadn't? You'd be hanging around with those smelly old Weasleys, dressing like you were some sort of tramp---"

"The Weasleys took me in as one of their own, which is more than I can say for your parents!"

"_My_ parents just have the sense to turn away rubbish like you! I, however, have the compassion to try and help you!"

"_Help me?_ Please, you just wanted your face on the front of those idiotic tabloids you read! Well, you've gotten your wish. Happy now, Cho?"

"I---I---" Cho looked like she was having difficulty coming up with something nasty enough to say to him, so she settled on bringing their discussion to a close. "OUT! Get out, NOW! Get out of my house!"

"Fine. But remember, I paid for it."

Harry returned to the Burrow scarcely two minutes after he left his own flat. Quite aware of the late hour, Harry knocked the door. He waited foolishly there for a few moments, and then it swung open.

"Harry?" Ginny stood in the doorway, apparently halfway through the process of pulling a dressing robe over a very large shirt of her brother's that fell halfway to her knees, which apparently served as her pajamas. "What're you doing back here so late?"

"Um, I sort of…well…Cho kicked me out for the night." It was now that he realized how pathetic it sounded, to get shooed from his own house by someone a head shorter than himself.

"Oh. Oh, right. Come in, then, come in," said Ginny, motioning him into the house. He followed her to the kitchen and took the seat that she tapped, slouching over as he rested his elbows on the table.

"Alright, Harry," she said, taking the kettle of tea that had been sitting forgotten on the stove, whistling softly. She poured them both a cup, and sat beside him. "What's happened between you and Cho?"

"It wasn't anything, really, at first," Harry began. "We were arguing a bit, because she didn't want anything to do with Ron or any of you, which was the real reason why I hadn't seen you all for so long…"

"Wait, Harry, d'you mean…" said Ginny uncertainly. "You mean she kept you from us?" Harry nodded, and her hand curled into a fist under the table, though she said only, "Go on."

"Right, so… I s'pose I just… I told her sorry for whatever I'd done, and then she hit me, and---"

"She _hit_ you?" Ginny asked.

"Yeah," said an embarrassed Harry quietly.

"Well, I don't blame her," said Ginny in a very false superior tone, loosening the cold knot of dread in the pit of Harry's stomach. "Keep on, then," she urged, taking a sip of her tea.

"I… I said some things that I shouldn't have, and… she didn't take too kindly to them." Harry forced a chuckle and looked over at her; she met his eyes and he had a strong feeling that she saw right through him.

"You're sure that's all?"

Harry didn't answer and cast his eyes to the creaking floorboards.

"It's alright," she said, the suspicion in her eyes (Harry had glanced back at her) turning to understanding. "I'll go tell mum and dad you're staying here for the night, alright?"

She touched his shoulder comfortingly as she left, long red hair swinging behind her.

Ginny returned a few minutes later, arms laden with blankets and a pillow. With a nod to the staircase, she led him up a floor and down the hall, turning into a room at the end.

"Charlie's not going to come around any time soon---he stays at his flat in Romania---so mum says you can sleep here," she explained, smoothing an extra blanket over what had once been Charlie's four-poster.

"Thanks, Gin," said Harry, as she straightened and met his eye. "I dunno what I would've done if no-one had answered the door."

"Oh, you probably would've slept in one of those trees by the lake. They're rather comfortable, you know," she replied conversationally. Ginny grinned, and kissed his cheek briskly. "G'night, Harry."

And then she was gone, leaving Harry with the most pleasant stomachache he'd ever had. It replayed in his head time after time, in such a way that Harry could hardly control it.

_She's your friend,_ he would tell himself, as Ginny's lips seemed to brush his face again. _It shouldn't mean anything. You're engaged._

But with such a thought, he couldn't help wondering how long that engagement would last.


	2. Snips, Snails, and Puppydog Tails

A/N: When Harry speaks in that "sing-song" voice, please don't think Peeves. If you've seen Walk the Line, think of when Johnny has those cracker things and he's telling June to "open yer mouth" in that low-pitched half-whispery voice. In other words, he's just sort of teasing her, in a very manly way. Not a Peeves-y way.

: Chapter 2 : Snips, Snails, and Puppy Dog Tails

Ginny closed the door behind her as quietly as she could. Blood was rushing through her cheeks. She put a hand to her mouth; her lips were tingling pleasantly.

_Get a grip, Gin,_ she scolded herself. _He doesn't think of you that way, never has, and he never will. Get back to being a normal person._

She took a bracing breath, and it trembled in spite of her will. It was such a silly childhood fancy, why did it always seem to creep up on her like this? Ginny turned down the hall and into her room. She lay beneath the comfortingly familiar bed sheets, which still smelled a bit like her eldest brother, Bill. This had been his room once. The walls were a crisp forest green colour with old, creaking floorboards. The four-poster was much larger than she needed, but had accommodated Bill nicely when he had had it and she still shared a room with Fred and George. Ginny chuckled as she remembered both her father's reason for giving her Bill's old room ("He's got his own flat now---he doesn't need a place here anymore.") and her mother's, which had been quite different ("If Fred and George turn your hair purple one more time, I'm locking them in the chicken coop!").

Slowly the silvery light filtering through her window faded into black, and from the black other shapes came about.

Ginny looked down at her feet, but instead found two very feline paws. She was aware of having a tail, as well, and whiskers. Something massive and furry landed in front of her, causing the ground beneath her pads to quiver. She leapt back, to avoid being hit with a giant paw. The furry thing twisted on the ground to face her, and she recognized a large cat face. Its fur was a brilliant red like her own, but it had bright blue eyes, while she knew that her's must be brown. _Ron,_ she thought, though she hadn't the foggiest idea why. As she looked around, she saw that there were more cats that also stuck a name in her head; _Mum, Fred, George, Charlie, Bill, Percy_.

Then something else caught her attention. There was a woman with long black hair (_Cho Chang,_ she thought) who was tugging a rope, on the end of which was a tall black dog that simply refused to move. She knew that dog. Scruffy fur, flopped over ears, a half-length tail---it was Sirius.

"Sirius!" she called, though heard only a loud "_Mrrow!_" Ginny ran towards him, and then froze in her tracks as he turned to look at her. That wasn't Sirius.

Striking green eyes. A weathered spirit within them, torn and battered, like it'd been sent to hell and back. Pain that they refused to feel, and love, too, but restrained with distrust, perhaps in the one they saw, or else in the one they served.

"Harry," she whispered, though again a came a noise that she might've heard from Wynnie or Crookshanks.

Harry raised a paw to come near her, but Cho, upon seeing what he was doing, jerked the rope back and Harry was yanked to her feet with a sharp yelp. He got to his paws, hacking and coughing, for the tether had choked him. He glared up at Cho, growling and snarling as best he could, but she only tightened the rope around his throat.

Ginny glanced down at her paw, flexed her claws out, grinned, and rocked back to spring. She flew at Cho's head, wanting nothing more than to mar that perfect, high-cheekboned face, and slice all the bone-straight hair off her pretty little head.

Unfortunately, it was at that moment that a very large white thing chose to nip her right on the nose.

"Ouch!" she cried out in surprise. "Hedwig? What're you doing here? Harry's just down the hall."

But Hedwig gave a loud, owlish tweet and dropped a letter into Ginny's lap. She cast a weary glance at the open door to the hallway that might lead one to Harry's room. As she skimmed the parchment, Ginny didn't wonder why. In very curly handwriting, it read:

_Dear Harry,_

_After thinking about everything that happened yesterday, I know now that you really didn't mean most of what you said. You were just tired. I know it's been a long week for you. I forgive you, Harry. You can come home now._

_Love,_

_Cho_

_XXXX_

"Smart girl, Hedwig," said Ginny, cringing at the letter. "He wouldn't've liked this much…"

Swinging her legs out of bed, she went to the window, tore Cho's letter into several pieces, and chucked them into the night sky. She glanced back at Harry's owl.

"You could've atleast waited until morning, though," she said, climbing back into bed. "At this rate I'll never get to sleep." _Or slice Harry's fiancé to bits,_ Ginny added silently.

Her next few hours of sleep were, regrettably, dreamless, but thankfully nightmare-less. When the world came slowly back into view, she found it occupied by a pair of striking green eyes.

Harry. Why was he here? Perhaps she was still dreaming…

"You're up," he said, grinning brightly at her. "Your mum says breakfast is ready."

Ginny gave a tired moan. Harry or not Harry, she still hated getting up in the morning. She rolled over onto her belly, pulling the covers up to her chin.

"Come on," he said gently in a singsong voice, resting a knee on the mattress and attempting to turn her over again. She came halfway, and slumped back down.

"Let's go, Gin," he chimed again, leaning down to speak it quietly into her ear this time. Her skin prickled pleasantly in that region, but she didn't budge.

"Rise and shine," he teased. He was so close that his mouth brushed her ear. Such was fire that shot down her back that she turned onto it at once, fully awake now. She found that he had been mere inches from her. There was an intake of breath by both parties, though only her's was audible. Harry swallowed so hard that his Adam's apple bobbed violently. For a moment---though it felt much longer---they stayed still, as if frozen, she on her back and he suspended over her, a hand supporting him on either side of Ginny. Something was lit ablaze in his eye. He licked his lips, as they were dry, and then the flame was snuffed, and he got to his feet.

"Right, err…" Harry cleared his throat, which seemed to clear his head as well. Ginny, sitting up now, pushed the covers down and swung her legs. She was suddenly very aware that her nightshirt had ridden up as she had slept, and Harry looked to be, too; he was no longer meeting her eyes, for his own gaze had drifted low. Ginny felt her cheeks heat, embarrassed, and tugged the shirt down.

"I-I'll see you downstairs," he said hurriedly, still not looking up as he left her room. Then Ginny remembered something.

"Harry!" she called after him, sticking her head into the hallway. "Cho said you could come back to you and her's flat."

Harry made an indistinct noise at the back of his throat, and left Ginny to pull on a pair of jeans for breakfast. When she had done so, she headed downstairs to the kitchen, which already smelled of toast, sausage hash, and fresh scotch eggs (not the rubbish kind that Muggles ate). Ginny sat down and placed a bit of each on her plate, glancing at the others around the table; her father, reading that morning's Prophet; Ron, who was talking animatedly to Harry about the Cannons game they had gone to a week ago; Hermione, sitting between Ginny and Ron, listening to the latter attentively while she ate; Ginny's mother, complacently looking through an album of Bill and Fluer's honeymoon photos; and Percy, eating very quickly, as he didn't want to be late to his job at the Ministry of Magic.

Ginny smiled as she chewed a small forkful of sausage, gazing out the window to the rolling green fields. It had taken a while, but eventually Percy had diluted his pride enough to apologize to their mum and dad. Atleast, he had thought it was only their mum and dad listening.

Fred and George had stuck an Extendable Ear under the door, and the Weasley children had all crouched around the end, listening in. Percy had said he was sorry for forgetting his priorities, and promised that his loyalties would always lie with his family. He had also informed them that he was engaged to Penelope Clearwater. ("But didn't he fancy Zacharias Smith?" George had asked, bemused.)

Ginny snapped out of her reminiscent spell and turned her attention back to the table, finding that Percy had gone, her mother was washing dishes (already), and, as she looked at him, Harry was watching her fixedly from the corner of his eye. He shifted his gaze almost immediately back to his plate.

Later that day, when a soft yellow sun was sliding down on the horizon, Harry hadn't said anything of heading back home, and, in accordance, neither had Ginny. Obviously he didn't trust Cho (or himself) to have completely gotten over their argument.

Thus, Sunday had consisted of two-on-two Quidditch games in the afternoon, and Exploding Snap once Fred and George came home. They had arrived with arms laden with new products, which Harry eventually, after much insistence on the twins' part, accepted. Then it was his turn to insist that Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all test them out with him, as Cho would make him chuck anything she considered childish, infantile, immature, or generally improper.

So, they sat in a circle (actually, it was more of an oval) on the floor, a pile of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes in the center.

"Your turn, Harry," said Ginny, watching her nails with supreme dislike. The carton she had selected---a small, nondescript package---was now causing her fingernails to fluctuate from a dark red to an annoyingly prissy powder pink.

Harry chuckled at her good-naturedly and fished around in the pile of Wheezes, eyes tightly shut. He drew a little red box from the mix, which read, "Entity Embodiment Crème Brûlée." Harry glanced at it, bemused.

"Maybe you're s'posed to eat it," said Ron suggested. Harry shrugged, and pulled a quite solid burnt cream from the box, biting off the end of it. There was a flash of light, and what stood in place of Harry made Ginny's heart skip a beat.

Shaggy fur, flopped over ears, and a half-length tail, with startlingly green eyes. It was the Harry-dog from her dream.

"_Woof!_" They all jumped atleast three feet in the air, save Harry, who simply looked surprised.

"_Woof_," said Harry again. They jumped again, and he broke out in a puppyish grin, tail thrashing from side to side.

"_Woof_," he said yet again, resulting in another huge jump. His tail moved quicker.

"Quit that!" said Hermione, looking agitated. She glanced at the Ron and Ginny. "When d'you suppose it'll wear off?"

"Dunno," said Ron, his brows furrowed.

"It's not too bad, is it Harry?" Ginny asked. "I mean, you _do_ look better as a dog."

Harry rammed her with his head, but she was laughing and his tail was wagging.

"You know," said Ron, smirking, "we ought to play fetch."

Apparently the burnt cream did not only affect Harry's exterior, but his mind as well, because the idea of fetch excited him very much. So much so, in fact, that he bowled Ron right over.

"Alright, alright, keep your fur on," said Ron, getting to his feet. Ginny and Hermione followed the boys outside, saying things like, "Don't piddle on the carpet, Harry," and "Be sure not to shed on the furniture." He growled at them briefly before, yet again, he was caught up in the excitement of chasing a stick across the yard.

"Good boy, Harry," said Ginny, trying very hard not to laugh as Harry returned, panting, the twig clamped in his jaws. She threw it out again, and he darted after it, a shrinking black break in the gold-spun green fields, bathed in the sun's dying yellow light. They carried on like this, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all throwing the stick out with Harry chasing enthusiastically after it, until he finally wore himself out and collapsed on the ground.

"Oh, Ron…look…it's so pretty," said Hermione, watching the clouds light up iridescently on the horizon.

"It is," he said, taking her hand. He shot a meaningful look at his sister, and said, "Come on, 'Mione," leading her over a tree-topped hill, where two silhouettes meshed to one.

Ginny sighed. She didn't need to be second-in-command Head Auror to know what they were up to. How did Ron, of all people, have success with members of the opposite gender, and not her?

_You've got Anthony_, said someone from between her ears.

_I'm breaking it off with him_, she replied silently.

_Already?_

She chose to ignore that last, and headed over to where Harry lay, half-asleep in the grass. She knelt down beside him, and pulled the little puppy head onto her lap, fondling with floppy puppy ears. He licked her knuckles appreciatively, and she giggled. While her brother and Hermione remained on the hill, she and Harry remained in the grass, a scratch behind the ears for a lick on the wrist. They didn't even notice when Harry returned to a human state again, for he was half-asleep and she was looking out to the sun, watching as it was steadily swallowed up by the horizon. Ginny fiddled with his fringe and Harry drifted in and out of sleep, reality and dreams melting into one another in their lack of difference, all the while breathing in a deep, heady scent that reminded him of sun-sweetened heather.

Until, of course, Ron and Hermione returned, both looking a bit disheveled and rather flustered, but not displeased in the slightest.

"Harry, it wore off," said Ron, eyes flicking very briefly at his friend before shifting back to the one walking next to him. Harry shot up so quickly that he hit his head on Ginny's chin

"Ouch!"

"Sorry!"

"It's okay."

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. How's your head?" Ginny asked. "Touched as usual?"

"Of course," Harry replied with a smirk, getting to his feet and offering her a hand. She took it and stood as well.

The four of them heard their names, and all whipped around to face the Burrow, where Ginny and Ron's mother leaned out of an open window.

"Come in, pudding's ready," she shouted, and a small stampede of feet headed into the Weasley kitchen. Due to Harry's presence, she had decided to go an extra length for dessert, and thus it tasted even better than it normally did; warm chocolate drop biscuits; a very sweet trifle; raspberry crumble; an apple tansy; and crème brûlée that Harry very politely refused.

Very full of food, they headed upstairs to bed. As Ginny past Harry's room on the way to her's, she head a swear from behind it. Curiosity pricked, she poked her head through the door (it had been ajar).

"Everything alright?" she asked.

"No," Harry replied darkly. Ginny noticed that he had a scroll of parchment in his hand, and Hedwig was sitting on the windowsill. "Cho's getting impatient. 'You've got me worried sick. Where are you, Harry?' Honestly, you'd think I was five," he spat irritably. "What'd she say in her first letter, anyway? Tell me I hadn't been thinking clearly? That it'd just been a bad day again?"

"She said she was sorry," Ginny lied.

"That's a first," Harry replied bitterly, giving a mirthless snort. "Where is it? I'd like to have something like that in writing."

"Harry…look…it'll turn out alright in the end," she tried.

"Of course it will," he said. "It always does. And then we'll be back to the same thing every day, all day, practically retracing my steps while she stuffs egg rolls down my throat and her mother talks to me like I've got a birth defect!" Ginny blinked.

"So this is the Wizarding World's Third Most Adorable Couple?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. Harry did too.

"You read that _Spellbound_ rubbish?" he asked.

"No, Fluer does," said Ginny with a sigh. "If you're so unhappy with her, why did you purpose to her?"

"I don't know, I don't remember!"

"You don't remember why you asked her?"

"No, I don't remember any of it. Getting the ring, purposing, none of it," Harry replied, glaring at a nearby nightstand as if attempting to make it burst into flame.

"But then…how are you engaged to her?" said Ginny, confused. "You couldn't've just woken up with a ring on her finger and a couple of galleons out your pocket---"

"I did."

"What?"

"I did. I woke up and I had a fiancé, and the last thing I remembered was the bartender at Wong's passing me a firewhiskey."

"How d'you know it even happened then? She might've just waited until you passed out, nicked some money, and bought a ring---"

"She didn't. I checked with Geoffrey, Roger, _and_ Marcus Belby---they're some people from the Ministry we were with---and they all said I did. Said I was dead drunk, but I did."

"Rotten luck."

"D'you think I've ever had anything else?" he asked. "I s'pose I met you and Ron and everyone, and going to Hogwarts was better than anywhere the Dursleys would've shipped me off to…"

"And atleast you were happy with Cho for a time," she pointed out. "I get bored with a bloke the day I get him." Harry snorted, and there was a contemplative pause before he said,

"It's not your problem, anyway," in low, dark tones.

"I'll make it my problem," she replied boldly. A corner of Harry's mouth twitched inexplicably before she added, "We ought to go to bed."

"What?" He snapped around to look at her with an oddly thunderstruck expression, and then said, "Oh, right. G'night, then."

"See you in the morning," she replied, making for the door.

"See you," Harry said quietly as she left.

Morning came soon, much too soon, for with morning came Harry's departure.

"Take care," her mother was saying, as Harry struggled to breath in one of her slightly lethal hugs, "and remember to come back soon this time, and---"

"I will, Mrs. Weasley," he said politely, voice at a bit of croak due to lack of breath. She released him, and after being squeezed by Hermione nearly as damagingly, he and Ron exchanged another one-armed hug.

"Good luck, mate," he said with a chuckle. As Harry and Ginny embraced, she said,

"You ought to turn up at my flat one of these days."

"You've got your own place?"

"I don't still live with my mother! Is that really the best you think I can do?"

"Well, no, 'course not, but---"

"46 Brackenbury. That's in Andover."

"Alright."

"See you, then."

"See you." With a forlorn sort of wave, Harry drew his wand and was gone.

"I…I think I'm going to go, too, Mum," said Ginny, giving her mother a quick hug good-bye. She pivoted on the spot and stepped onto a gravel-paved street.

Home was a stout construction, with two stories just barely wedged into it. Green fields flecked with purple stretched a mile or two on all sides before fading into forest. She pulled open a welcoming gate and headed down the dirt road, her mind elsewhere. Ginny was stopped (actually attacked) halfway down by a massive, scruffy white beast, which tackled her to the ground, lapping at her cheeks in delight.

"Skiddy---come on---I've got to get inside---Anthony'll be here in five minutes---stupid dog---" She couldn't help but laugh at her adorably single-minded sheepdog.

Suddenly Skidbladnir was plucked from the ground, and then a boy with straw-coloured hair scruffy as the dog's stood looking down at her, a friendly grin plastered across his face.

"Oh, hi, Ant," said Ginny as he hoisted her up by the wrist. "I thought you weren't coming 'til ten o'clock?"

"It's ten o'five, Ginny," he replied, suddenly looking rather cross.

"Oh…sorry…it's just that---my brother's friend came to the Burrow, and---well, he hasn't spoken to us for ages, so…um…" Anthony raised his brows at her, nonplussed.

"Whatever, you're here now," he said suddenly, his composure brightening substantially.

"Yeah, I guess," said Ginny, a part of her wishing he were still upset with her. "Look, Anthony---"

"Come on, Ginny, let's head inside," he said, ignoring her and heading toward the vertically challenged building before them.

"Alright," she replied in a defeated tone of voice. They headed up onto the porch, where Ginny pulled a little brass key from her pocket and shoved it into the doorknob. Several locks clicked: three magical, one Muggle. She made to open the door, but Anthony cut her off, in a most unusual way. He kissed her full on the lips, and so great was her surprise (or revolt) that she did not respond. He tried again, and still she did nothing.

"Anthony, what---?" But he cut her off yet again, trying to persuade her mouth to reply with his. Finally he jerked away from her, whipping around so that he didn't have to face the taken aback girl that stood with him on the front porch.

"Damn it, Ginny," he yelled angrily. As though determined to look severely agitated, Anthony and rammed his shoulder into one of the wooden support beams that hung from the over hang of roof, and gave it another kick for good measure.

"What'd I do?" she asked sharply.

"If you weren't even a _bit_ taken with me, then why'd you agree to a date?" he demanded.

"I never said I wasn't taken with you," Ginny pointed out severely.

"Then what was that?"

"What was what?"

"When I…you didn't…" He trailed off, in such a fury that he couldn't put his thoughts together (and, unfortunately, Anthony was not one of those people that looked attractive when they were angry).

"You're sore because I didn't kiss you back? I wasn't expecting you to---er---do that," Ginny replied fiercely.

"So you decided to shoot me down instead?" he asked with a sneer.

"Only because you didn't have my consent," she replied coolly, chin raised.

"Oh, so I s'pose I should've said something like, 'Hi Ginny, do I have your consent to kiss you today?' Honestly, you're such a bloody waste of time…" He glanced over his shoulder at her, dark eyes narrowed. "I did like you, you know."

"Liked me?" said Ginny with mirthless laugh. "You just wanted your old dormitory friends to stop teasing you about the time they caught you in the broom closet with Michael Corner!"

"You don't know anything about that!" Anthony retorted.

"I don't, do I? I dated him for two years, or don't you remember? Even an idiot would know he wasn't sulking about some lost Quidditch match!"

"SHUT UP! Shut up, you---" He then called her something that she was surprised he would know, much less use.

"If you want me to quiet down so badly, then maybe you should run off with Terry or Eddie, quit wasting your time here!"

Looking as though he wouldn't have minded if Ginny had dropped dead at that very moment, Anthony stormed down the porch and across the yard to the street, where a far-off _CRACK_ signified his Disapparating.

With a heavy sigh, Ginny slumped down onto the glider, where Skidbladnir promptly joined her.

"I'm not having a good day," she said, rolling her eyes and pushing her fingers through her hair in frustration.

"_Woof_," came a solemn reply.

"Well, come on, I know you must be hungry, what with not getting table scraps between meals," Ginny told him with a chuckle, getting to her feet.

"_Woof_!" She grinned, fluffed up the messy fur over his head, and pulled open the screen door for herself and Skidbladnir, as he'd outgrown the dog door months ago.

The house was bright with midday sunshine that poured through open windows, a cool breeze trailing after.

"_Finite Incantatem_," said Ginny deftly to the canister of puppy kibbles, which she had Charmed to empty a bowl's worth of food into Skidbladnir's dish. After picking up a few various objects (including two day's worth of mail, an old Chudley Cannons Little League cap, a singed oven mitt, and an ancient tin of Hagrid's treacle fudge) that he had slopped onto the floor in his mindless running about. She slumped onto the squishy legless couch. How it had come to exist without legs was a rather dull story, one that people really couldn't be bothered to sit around and hear, though they were prone to ask anyway due to the sheer novelty of it. Regardless, Ginny patted the cushion next to her with a quick, "Up, up, Skiddy," and was almost instantly joined as she opened mail. While the beast next to her chewed on one of his favourite headless teddy bears, Ginny slit the top on the first envelope, which seemed to scream "bill," but, mercifully, was not. It was simply an invitation from one of her old dorm mates, who apparently was getting married. Of course she'd come. Ginny picked up the next envelope, which really was a bill, calling for a sum of---

"Stupid bastards." Quite displeased with envelopes now, she turned her attention to the small stack of scrolls that had accumulated.

_Weasley-_

_We need you her as soon as you can get here._

_-Mr. Matheson_

Ginny bit her lip. The letter was dated from the day before yesterday, and Mister Matheson was her supervisor at the Ministry, where she worked on level three in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes as a member of the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad. (They were called the AMR Squad, for short.) She unrolled the next one:

_Weasley-_

_Was I not clear in my last message? We need you down here NOW._

_-Mr. Matheson_

And the next one:

Weasley- 

_What part of "now" did you not understand?_

_-Mr. Matheson_

And the next:

Weasley- 

_You know that pay raise I was considering for you? I'm done considering._

_-Mr. Matheson_

Bother, and she'd worked hard for that, too.

Weasley- 

_Get down here in the next three minutes, or I'm going to hex you._

_-Matheson_

_Weasley-_

_In case you haven't heard over WWN, we've got a situation with a couple of Scotts, a fire-breathing elephant, and some titanic women's drawers. In other words: You. Here. Now._

_-Matheson_

_Weasley-_

_I'm going to go bury myself alive, and when I resurface, please be back. Please._

_-Matheson_

_Ginny-_

_Hi, I was just wondering what you were up to, or if you'd like to go for tea Wednesday with this nice bloke I met down at Twillfit's. I know you're going out with that Anthony boy, but knowing you, you've already dropped him. So, what d'you say?_

_-Carole_

_PS. Peter reckons you've driven Matheson right mad. He fell asleep at his desk the other day, and was muttering something about elephants and panties._

_Weasley-_

_I don't like elephants. I don't like Scottish people. I don't like undergarments. Help me. Save us. Please._

_-Matheson_

_Weasley-_

_I'm covered from head to toe in dung and someone is playing an electric bagpipe in my ear. Show up whenever you like, don't mind me._

_-Matheson_

Feeling that the other thirty-some scrolls were of the same nature, Ginny drew her wand from her back pocket, stood, and stepped into the empty Muggle street corner, complete with nondescript magical telephone booth. She punched in 62442, to which a calm female voice sounded.

"Davey, it's Ginny. Let me down, will you?" She tried not to sound rude, but it was urgent.

"Oh, oh, right," said a man's voice, dry with age. "He-he, Mathy's going to 'ave your 'ead, Ginners."

"Yeah, that I've figured," said Ginny, chuckling in spite of herself as the booth plunged down ward. Apparently her blunder had even carried to the doorman. Suddenly a little silver badge appeared.

"Oh, come _on_," she said, eyes rolling.

"Put 'er on, Ginners," Davey croaked jovially.

"You've got to be kidding. Nobody wears those anymore," she argued. "It's not like they're about to turn me in. I've got an ID card, after all."

"Minis'ry policy," he replied in a dignified manner.

"Fine, fine," said Ginny, plucking it out of the slot. She stowed it in the left pocket of her jumper as the door swung open into the third floor.

"WEASLEY!" A balding man with ever-perspiring pink pudge for skin was pointing to her as he rushed forward, a crazed look in his eye. She noticed that he smelled rather foul today.

"Afternoon, Mr. Matheson. Sorry I wasn't here earlier, I was---"

"Shut up, I don't have the time for sorry excuses. Listen: Trowbridge, White Horse Business Park. Lancelot McFlatherty---"

"Lancelot McFlatherty---like from the Hobgoblins?"

"Yes, the same, and don't interrupt again or I'll jinx you into a jar of apple butter. Anyway, he was reading an old issue of the Quibbler---DON'T YOU _DARE_ INTERRUPT---and it said that Stubby Boardman was actually Sirius Black. Stubby and he were good friends until they had that horrible fight about his supposed affair with Doris Purkiss, and that eventually caused the band to fall apart.

"Well, finding that the affair wasn't just a rumor got him so riled that he turned an entire intersection into quicksand. A circus was passing by---just our luck---and one of their elephants thought it was a watering hole, so he jumped right in. McFlatherty also managed to turn their entire tent into a pair of woman's drawers, go figure. The Obliviators have wiped the memories of all the Muggles that were around, the tent is back to normal, and we've managed to stabilize the elephant by tying him to lampposts and buildings around the city, but we can't stop the quicksand---there's something irregular about it. You can put things into it, but you can't take them out, no matter how hard you try---it's impossible.

"Have you tried drying it up so that it's just a pile of sand?" Ginny suggested.

"Yes!" said Matheson, exasperatedly. There was a pause. "Wait…no."

"Then let's head down there to test it out, shall we?" she replied in a cheerful taunt.

She slipped into a purple robe and they Apparated to Trowbridge, which was crawling with wizards and witches donned in violet, all hovering around a giant sinkhole in an intersection in front of the business park.

"Well, go ahead, tell them," said Matheson, looking deflated. Ginny tapped her collarbone with her wand tip.

"Alright, everyone, we're going to try something different," she said, watching as heads turned to face her. "I want everyone to shoot a Drought Charm right at the quicksand, any part you can reach. Avoid hitting the elephant. I don't think it'd like that much."

There was a collective chortle (apparently they were desperate to lighten the tone of the situation) and a great swell of yellow light. A cloud of steam billowed into the sky, and when it cleared, an amassment of sand surrounded a very unhappy elephant. It wiggled its shoulders and a quarter of the ropes snapped…a half…another quarter… With great effort, the great pachyderm stepped out of the ground, sand rolling off its wrinkly grey skin in heaps.

"Get that thing watered down!" Matheson ordered. "And patch up the street there!"

"I s'pose this wouldn't get me back in the running for a raise, would it?" she asked tentatively with an imploring expression.

"It might, as long as you have a good excuse for taking so long," he said severely.

"You know how I told you I was going to my mother's for the weekend?" He nodded.

"Well, that's where I was. She was ill, and I was taking care of her. I couldn't leave just to check my mail---what if it got worse suddenly, and she needed to go to St. Mungo's?"

Matheson narrowed his eyes at her, as if trying to detect any falsehood, but Ginny was an excellent liar, and passed inspection easily.

"I'll think about it," he said finally. Ginny grinned. That meant, "Yes, I just don't want to seem like a nice boss."

The rest of the day was to pass very smoothly. They de-furred a Muggle Norwegian couple that had been inadvertently hexed by their temperamental, magical toddler when they refused give her an ice-lolly. Then they had headed up to Rona, where a man had filled his neighbor's entire house with margarine. It had taken a while, but eventually they'd Scourgified the building clean. That had happened to be their final run of the day (colour-changing cows could wait---they weren't hurting anyone) so Ginny was free to have dinner at a lonely pub by the sea. Oddly enough, the tender was a very accommodating old man, who made _very_ good fish and chips. They served it with her favourite brand of malted vinegar, and this paired with a warm mug of butterbeer made for a very nice supper.

"So you really don't get much business here, Wally?" Ginny inquired, stabbing her fork into a golden-brown kipper. "That's a right shame. The food is fantastic, and the company isn't _too _bad," she added with a smirk.

"Aye," Wally replied with a chuckle. "Well, considerin' the town's got four wizards---five on holidays---I don' expect much traffic." A bell tinkled, signaling that the door had opened at the front of the pub. "That'll the secon' one today! New record, that."

Thunder crashed outside, silhouetting a quite tall man in a flash of white. He approached the bar, wiping off his shadowed face and shaking excess rainwater out of his hair. His hand dropped and suddenly the flickering lamplight turned on his face, illuminating it and making the man's identity quite clear.

Ginny couldn't believe it.


End file.
